The Art of Being Lost
by retwin
Summary: Being lost in a world where it seemed everyone was looking for them was an art form and Marta and Aaron were masters…Companion to, They'll Bring No Flowers.
1. Prologue

The Art of Being Lost

Sidnea Blackstone

Summary: Being lost in a world where it seemed everyone was looking for them was an art form and Marta and Aaron were masters…Companion to, They'll Bring No Flowers.

AN1: I don't own them I just like playing…

AN2: This is the second part of They'll Bring No Flowers.

AN3: Because this whole story will revolve around the physical and emotional growth of Aaron and Marta, together. If you are under eighteen this Prolugue will get you up to speed and ready for the third and final story in this little fic-verse. You'll have to wait for the next part to start but you won't miss plot if all you read is this intro.

* * *

Being lost in a world where it seemed everyone was looking for them was an art form and Marta and Aaron were masters. They stayed aboard that fishing boat for three weeks it had been a refuge, a place to heal, but it wasn't meant to be permanent.

They didn't walk off the boat like normal people much to Marta's chagrin. Instead they slipped off in the dark of night when Bayani and his sons were sleeping. They were good hardworking people but Aaron thought it would be safer for everyone involved if they couldn't say exactly where the two Americans parted company with them. The swim to shore took longer than if he had been alone and he had to tow her the last twenty-five yards, but the added time and exertion did not bother Aaron it was what he was designed for, after all.

Life wasn't easy but at least they were together and not alone any longer. If one of them could not do something the other could and sometimes they even made the impossible happen…They are a team.

Moving back to the United States had been a risky endeavor, but in the end being lost in the middle of a dense rain forest on a sparsely populated corner of the world limited their ability to keep their fingers on the collective pulses of the many headed hydra that was 'The Program'. Besides America was their home and no matter what a particular branch of the government was doing Aaron and Marta both agreed that they loved their country. So, six months after they slipped off a boat into choppy waters they began to plan their return home.


	2. Chapter 1

The Art of Being Lost

AN: As was pointed out the June Monroe identity was burned. So, I changed their new names to Charles and Rose Gordon. Charlie Gordon was the name of the human test subject in Flowers for Algernon and I thought that was appropriately symbolic. I chose Rose for Marta because it is the name of a flower. You figure out why I liked that I have very twisted logic.

* * *

Marta could barely put one foot in front of the other by the time the found a motel room on the Palawan mainland of Puerto Princesa Island; the swim to shore that morning having nearly done her in. If Aaron had not been there she would have drowned. Of course, if Aaron had not been there she would have stayed safely on the boat until it docked and then walked off it like a civilized person.

It didn't help that they arrived on the island in the dead of the night and had to hide out in the jungle until light dawned on the horizon and a plane passed overhead. There were only twelve flights a day into and out of Puerto Princesa International Airport so new faces arriving at odd hours would have been too noticeable and might draw the wrong sort of attention.

Aaron had found them a good spot overlooking the small airport, oddly enough in an area adjacent to a golf course, and settled with his back to a tree and her on his lap. "Come on, Doc, it is like camping without a tent," Aaron encouraged her as he took off his pack and got comfortable. She was supposed to sleep, but she had never been camping 'with' a tent; so having her first taste without one was disconcerting. He took it in stride but told her to at least close her eyes; which she did. The only positive she could find was that if camping meant she got to lay with her head over Aaron's heart then she was in.

When it was time to make an appearance Marta discovered that every muscle in her body, even ones she didn't know existed, hurt. Running through a city full tilt and wrecking a motorcycle had nothing on the burn that swimming fifty-six yards put in her body. They snuck into the airport with the flow of people arriving and leaving and used the public bathroom to become Charles and Rose Gordon.

Aaron rented a vehicle while she converted dollars to the local currency and bought a few souvenirs and a local map as part of their cover. She didn't know how he did it but Aaron managed to have their passports stamped so that when the rental agency asked to see it they appeared to be just arriving from Borneo.

Once they were in the car Aaron drove all day, only stopping to buy gas or use facilities; which were not as difficult to come by as Marta thought they would be. They decided to stop in Raxas and find a place to stay while they built up their personas. When they came across Pacifico Estates, a series of little bungalows, Aaron took her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm with a big smile.

They were going with the story that they were newlyweds touring the Philippines on their honeymoon; which excited Marta. Over the last three weeks, on the boat, they had been skirting around each other flirting, touching and learning with each other. It had not progressed to actual sex but what they were doing was far more intimate than a mere joining of bodies, besides the walls on the boat may as well have been rice paper instead of steal. They had very little privacy for anything more to happen.

Aaron stopped in front of a small building that proclaimed itself the 'office' before smoothly exiting the car and rounding the front to open her door. He held his hand out for her, helping her from the car with a boyish smile. She envied the easy grace Aaron showed when he tucked her under his arm and slung both of their packs over his right shoulder. If Aaron was experiencing any discomfort after their swim, their night on hard ground under a tree and long cramped car ride he didn't show it.

While Aaron conversed with the desk clerk Marta played the part of affectionate new wife by practically falling asleep on his shoulder; which amused both Aaron and the old man behind the desk. Not bothering to open her eyes she listened while they talked. It was a slightly different dialect than Bayani or his sons, Ruey and Modesto, spoke but she was able to pick-up a little of what was being said.

"This is your first time here," the old man, Pacifico, asked.

"To Palawan," Aaron nodded and then clarified, "but we have been touring other islands for the last few weeks. It has been like a dream hasn't it, honey?" Marta nearly snorted at the idea that the breakneck sprint through Manila and the almost furtive excursions on Lubang, Ambil, Templo, Mindoro and Busuange as touring, let alone being a dream, but at least it was places they had been. Carefully over the last three weeks Aaron had planted seeds about who Charles and Rose Gordon were and what they were doing in the Philippines.

"That's one way to put it," Marta turned her face into his shoulder stifling the urge to laugh manically.

"Ah, new love," the old man sighed and Marta thought he was probably smiling goofily as he added, "My Tala and I have been together for fifty-three years and it is still like the first year. I keep her up all night like you keep your Rose awake."

"I doubt he snores as loud as you do, Paci!" Both Aaron and Marta laughed as the feminine voice interrupted Pacifico's ribbing. Marta opened her eyes to find a spry looking old woman carrying a wooden spoon giving Aaron a once over that said even at seventy she thought he was a tasty morsel. "No, I think the boy has other ways of keeping her up nights. Now, get the children a room and come eat your supper."

"Shoo," Pacifico waved Tala away as he took a key from a peg behind him, but she ignored him and smacked his hand with the wooden spoon.

"Not that one," she admonished, "The special bungalow."

Tala turned and rolled her eyes at Marta, "Men, they never learn that some things deserve more than four walls and a roof." She turned and pushed her husband of fifty-three years toward the door. "Don't you worry," she winked at Marta, "You will both like the special Bungalow."


	3. Chapter 2

The Art of Being Lost part 2

Tala was right; they did both love the 'Special Bungalow' although their reasons could not have been more different. Aaron watched the old man lumber back down the steep hill that lead down to the main motel grounds. He could have kissed Tala for suggesting this bungalow because it was set nearly fifty yards from the rest of the huts atop a little hill that gave Aaron a clear line of sight down to the road and easy access to the jungle that isn't visible from below. The walls constructed of densely woven bamboo were not thick, but that could either be a pro or a con so he would not quibble about the construction.

Turning Aaron found Marta studying him, with a thoughtful look; from her place against the sturdy bamboo railing, "Is it okay," she asked, "Will we be safe here?"

He took another look around the area before meeting her questioning gaze, "Yeah, Doc, we'll be fine. This is a nice defensible position."

"Good," she smiled tiredly before turning to walk back into the bungalow, calling over her shoulder. "I am taking a bath, hopefully, in a real tub."

"I'm going back down to the car to make sure everything is clean in case we have to leave it," Aaron told her as he turned to sit their packs on the dresser in front of the bed.

"Oh, my, God," Marta's loud proclamation kick started his adrenaline and Aaron was at the bathroom door glock in hand before the rest of her words filtered through his aura of battle. "Oh, Mr. Garden Tub, will you marry me," she squealed and launched herself into the room with a look of total awe on her face.

"Wait…What," Aaron asked dumbfounded as he stepped into the modestly and yet opulently appointed facilities.

"Bubble bath," Marta exclaimed as she started drawing her bath practically jumping up and down as she stoppered the tub and turned on the taps adding a liberal amount of spice scented liquid that began to froth and bubble.

"All this excitement over a bath tub," Aaron laughed, "God you're easy to please." He was glad to see genuine mirth on her pretty face, it was rare, but sometimes he would catch sight of a terrible sadness in her eyes. The dreams seemed to taper off after a couple weeks but he knew they were lurking around the corner waiting for a moment to strike her when she least expected it; so, he did not begrudge her obsession with a bathroom fixture if it made her smile like that. "Come lock the door behind me; I have to scrub the car and I will have the key to get back in."

Marta followed after him already kicking off her shoes and toeing off her socks as they went. Aaron had to temper the instinct to remind her that they needed to be prepared to run and to keep her shoes close. He was going to let her have this night and as many more as they could spare to be a normal woman in a tropical paradise.

At the door Aaron turned around and scanned the room again before handing her the glock, "Take this," he said, "Just in case. What's the password?"

"Twelve," Marta murmured as she took the glock and checked the clip like he showed her before setting the safety and putting it into the waistband of her jeans, "And yours?"

"Algernon," he smirked, "Why do all our passwords have to do with my previously diminished intellect?"

Marta smiled, cupping his cheek, "I don't know, but next time I get to pick."

"Agreed," he opened the door slowly and stepped out onto the porch. His eyes alert as he listened to the night around them. Aaron had explained on the ship that his hearing was extremely sensitive and that it had saved his ass more than once. Marta had laughed and said it had saved hers once or twice, too. Turning he pulled the door closed and called quietly, "Lock up."

He waited until he heard the click and slide of the deadbolts setting before he headed for the car. Aaron worked quickly, like a man that had done a certain task so often that it became second nature. Once he was finished he gathered the few items he had found and headed back up to the bungalow. About a quarter of the way up he found Tala making her way up the trail carrying a basket that looked as if it weighed three times more than her.

Aaron froze for a moment glancing around, trying to pin point any possible danger, finding none he called after the elderly woman in her native tongue. "Tala, wait let me help you with that."

The old woman was smiling as she turned to wait for him to reach her side. "Mr. Gordon," she greeted, "I am glad I caught you before you went back to your beautiful wife. I have made a gift for you." She pressed the basket into his hands and he discovered that it did indeed outweigh the old woman.

"You didn't have to do that," Aaron smiled as he lifted the cover and found an assortment of foods and a bottle of local hooch. Pulling it out Aaron offered her his thanks.

"It is the least I can do for such a happy occasion. My Pacifico makes the very best," she patted him on his arm and headed back the way she had come. "Now, go on back before Mrs. Gordon thinks you have gotten lost. I am sure she misses you."

"I don't know about that, she was proposing to the tub when I came down to lock up the car."

"Ah," the old woman laughed wickedly. Disappearing into the darkness as she spoke, "I knew she would appreciate that room. Now, go on, if I remember correctly there is room enough for two."

Aaron watched after the elderly woman until she was safe back inside the office. Hefting the basket he followed the trail back up to the Bungalow, taking a moment to check the perimeter. Once he was assured, as much as could be, that they were safe Aaron unlocked the door and entered the bungalow. Turning he locked the door and then surveyed the room. He nearly laughed when he found a haphazard trail of clothes leading to the bathroom, but he realized he found that too damned sexy to let lie.

Sitting the basket on the table and removing the bottle of Pacifico's finest Aaron headed for the bathroom.

"What's the password," Marta's lazy demand came from the little room just as he reached the door.

"Algernon," he responded before pushing the door open.

Leaning against the door jamb he watched as Marta removed his glock from the bubbles and laid it on the shelf beside the tub. He was impressed that she had thought far enough ahead as to camouflage the gun to make it appear to anyone entering that they had her at a disadvantage. He did not voice this thought because the Doc might find it condescending.

Lifting the bottle in his hand Aaron asked, "Want to try some of Pacifico's best while you soak?"

"That would be lovely," Marta agreed.

Aaron nodded, "I'll be right back," he murmured as he found two glasses and poured a generous two fingers into each. When he returned to the steam filled and spice scented bathroom he found Marta with her back to the door. Approaching the tub Aaron held Marta's glass out as he sat on the edge. She took the glass and they both took a tentative sip; the liquor was surprisingly smooth for home brew and Aaron thought it was probably pretty potent, too.

Watching Marta savor her drink Aaron reached out and let the backs of his fingers skim along her flushed cheeks. Their eyes met and held as he let his fingers slide down her throat to tease at the perked nipple barely concealed by the froth of bubbles. Marta gasped, her eyes going dark as he caught the erect flesh between his fingers and worried it, back and forth, with his thumb.

"Aaron," she gasped shifting restlessly in the water.

"I have it on good authority that this tub is big enough for two," he murmured as he let his eyes fall away from hers to watch as his fingers sought out her other nipple.

"Really, well, we need more," she moaned when he tugged a little more firmly on the distended bud of her nipple, "empirical data."

"You're the scientist, Doc," Aaron smirked as she arched into his touch. "So, how would you go about getting this…Empirical data?"

"T—test the theory," she whimpered when his hand edged beneath the water dipping into her belly button.

"That sounds reasonable," he smiled as he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips and stood up. She protested when his hand and lips left her but she subsided when he began slipping his jacket off. He liked the way Marta looked at him now. It was nothing like when they were in the lab; even though Aaron thought that she had been anything but truly indifferent. Marta had told him, one night while they lay on the small cot on Bayani's boat, that she had thought of him after the shooting in the lab while she was being questioned. She may not have known the lab rat's name but she had noticed the man on an instinctual level.

Completely naked, Aaron stepped into the tub and took her previously occupied spot. The water was on the scalding side of hot, but it felt damned good as he settled against the porcelain with a satisfying groan.

As an asset, he was taught to ignore any and all discomfort. It was usually only after he had down time that he allowed his body relief and Aaron had not allowed himself downtime since before he went off the grid and ended up traipsing through Alaska dancing with wolves. That thought put a smirk on his face as he cautiously stretched out his legs and let his muscles go loose as he watched Marta's eyes take in every inch of his muscled frame.

"Come 'ere," he murmured, gruffly. Stretching his arms out along the edge of the tub, Aaron presented himself, an open target. Not a posture he would usually display, but this was the Doc, he was safe with her.

Marta licked her lips and swallowed heavily before rising from the suds on her knees to slip closer to him, between his spread thighs. Aaron let his eyes skim her body like the bubbles sliding along her flushed skin. The bruises had almost all gone after three weeks, but her skin still had a slight muddling beneath the surface. The scrape, thank goodness, was gone totally without a scare. She looked a little nervous kneeling their between his thighs but she seemed to be waiting for him to take point; so, he lazily raised one of his hands and stroked her turgid nipple, back and forth, with the backs of his fingers. She gasped, "Aaron."

He smiled, traced his fingers up over the swell of her breast to the base of her throat. "Come 'ere, Doc," Aaron ordered, softly and Marta shivered. He wasn't sure if it was his voice or the fingers slipping behind her neck to tangle with her hair at the nape that caused the whimper from her throat.

Nearly, three weeks, Aaron had been seducing her for nearly three weeks and now he had her right where he needed her. Light pressure on the nape of her neck and she was pressed full against his chest and they were both gasping at the effect. They had touched and teased, but this was satisfaction. Holding her gaze Aaron placed his other hand on her knee and ran the palm up her thigh to the curve of her hip and around to cup her ass. Her mouth fell open and her eyes fluttered briefly but remained locked with his; Aaron smiled shifting his legs beneath her. Coaxing her astride his thighs he huffed out a hungry breath that was mated with a keening gasp from Marta.

Pressing his forehead to Marta's he pulled her tighter to his chest until her sex cradled his cock. Rocking his hips slowly, methodically Aaron pleasured her watching Marta's eyes flair with each slide of him against her sensitive flesh. Only after her body jerked in release did he shift his hips and drive deep inside her pulsing sex and forcing a greedy, needful cry from Marta's lips.

Her arms enfolded him and her eyes, glazed and unfocused, held him captive. Feeling the intensity of her wrapped around him, in every fashion, pushed Aaron over a mental edge he had not known was before him. She was his and his alone; surging up onto his knees, thrusting deeply, Aaron claimed her with each drive upwards. Marta convulsed around him again and Aaron could not hold off any longer, with a keening cry he came deep within her. Boneless, they sank back into the tub, Marta draped limply across his still heaving chest.

Marta crawled up his chest to give him a laughing kiss; which Aaron returned with gusto. He pushed the hair out of her face and pulled back to study the happy gleam sparkling in her eyes.

"What's so funny, Doc?"

"I was just thinking," she murmured biting her lip.

"About," he asked.

"Testing theory," she smirked and kissed him deeply.


	4. Chapter 3

The Art of Being Lost

Marta slowly drifted into full wakefulness with a smile adorning her kiss bruised lips; they had been at Pacifico Estates for a little over three weeks and Aaron was still hungry for her. It was refreshing the way he cared for her, wanted her, without being oppressively clingy. The man suckling reverently at her left breast unmindful of the odd hour as he nuzzled, nibbled and lapped at her taut nipple, craved affection. Marta was only too happy to give it to him.

"You should be sleeping," she murmured, with a happy sigh and toying with his hair.

Aaron did not reply, instead he raised himself over her and nosed at her right breast playfully before giving it to the same treatment as the first. Marta breathed in deeply, biting her lip as he single-mindedly feasted upon her sensitive nipples. Letting her hands find the nape of his neck Marta clutched her fingers in his short hair.

"No," he mumbled against the curve of her breast. Aaron pried her fingers from his hair and pressed them to the pillow above her head. He compelled her with his eyes to keep them there, with nothing more dangerous than a look that promised untold pleasure if she obeyed him.

"Aaron," she whimpered.

He simply pressed a finger to her lips; his eyes intense as he flipped the sheet off of her exposing her nakedness to the hot, humid night air and his burning gaze. The finger on her lips slipped over her chin. Then it skimmed along her throat, down between her aching breasts, pausing to circle her left nipple before continuing down, down to the juncture of her thighs. Unerringly, he found her clitoris and his soulful eyes watched her reaction as he lightly teased a gasp from her lips.

Marta lifted her hands, intent on touching him, her need to pleasure him acute, but she stiffened her resolve to do as he asked of her. Forcefully, she slammed her fists into the pillow over her head with a whimper. Aaron gently parted her thighs while leaning forward to take her lips in a hungry kiss. "Please," She begged as he settled between her thighs.

Their tongues mated languidly for a time, but Aaron had a plan. Of course he had a plan, he was the Ex-Outcome asset, and he always had a plan. Soon he was back at her breasts suckling worshipfully for a moment before meeting her gaze and sliding further down, raining open-mouthed kisses along her belly and further.

"Aaron," Marta's wide eyes followed him as he slithered down the bed do rest between her thighs; his position made her nervous. She wasn't an idiot. She knew what he was about to do, but she had never had anyone that up close and personal without a medical degree and speculum.

He smiled that wonderful, reassuring smile he used when she was on the edge of a panic attack or moral upheaval and murmured, "Relax, Doc." It was the smile that always did her in. It transformed his face from serious and deadly to boyish and endearing in the twitch of a few facial muscles and it completely enslaved her.

The oxygen left her lungs when his mouth covered her sensitive parts and the sensations induced her fingers the twist and tangle tightly in her own hair to keep from lowering them to his grasp his head. Her eyes slammed shut as her mind fought a tug-of-war between wanting to drag him closer, deeper and push him away to alleviate the too intense feelings he was evoking within her.

Aaron was patient, beyond anyone else, in regard to her pleasure. She may have had other lovers, but none of them, not even Peter Doyle, had taken as much time and care to remove her mind from the cerebral habitation of science and place her firmly in the realm of unthinking, mindlessly sensual woman. He was a tactile man and since that night in the tub Aaron spent a great deal of time tenderly petting and fiercely claiming her.

It would have been easy for Marta to forget that they were running for their lives, except Aaron was hyper-aware of their circumstances and took steps to prepare her for a time that frightened the hell out of her, a time when she might be separated from him and fighting to survive. He began teaching her how to drive the first week here. It took two weeks of tense instruction, nerve racking practice and hot sex on the hood of the rental car before she was good enough that Aaron was hopeful that she might have the skill it would take to escape and evade.

Marta was not so sure, but then her mind could not imagine being separated from Aaron. He had become essential in such a short space of time and Marta wondered if the necessity went both ways. Sometimes she felt like the weak link in their chain.

A sharp pain on the inside of her thigh startled her and her eyes flew to Aaron's, "Stop that, Doc, no thinking." His voice was commanding and gruff as he tongued the red mark made by his teeth on her thigh. As if sensing that the moment had shifted around them Aaron slid effortlessly up her body, entering her slowly, and tangling their fingers together over her head.

"I'm sorry," she gasped as he flexed his hips insuring his complete possession of her body.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Aaron denied as he leaned down claiming her lips in a gentle kiss. She could taste herself on his lips and her breathing hitched. Aaron noticed and with a knowing smirk he deepened the kiss and began moving smoothly, languidly within her. "Close your eyes."

"No," she shook her head murmuring, "I want to see you."

His eyes studied hers, intensely, for a few minutes before he pressed his lips to her eyes one at a time and whispered, "You can feel me."

"But," she tried to argue but he began to increase his sedate pass and kissed her mouth closed.

"Be here," he pleaded, softly. "We have this moment away from everything…Just feel."

"Okay," she nodded, sliding her legs higher until her ankles were pressing insistently into his ass and tightened her internal muscles. She had noticed early on in their sexual relationship that Aaron liked that and the way his breath hitched and he began to thrust more erratically proved that theory sound. Groaning she lifted her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. Soon, Aaron's fingers were as tightly tangled with hers as they strained for release, that if Marta were able to think beyond the next plunging stroke she might worry that they could do serious damage to hers.

However, she had taken Aaron's order to heart and the only thought on her mind was of the man whose sweat was raining down onto her body and the slick way their skin moved against each other. He was so hot; his altered body's core temperature higher after viralling off of Greens, and physical activity only intensified his skins heat to the point that her body felt cool in comparison.

As if sensing her thoughts again wondering Aaron lowered his mouth to her throat and scraped his teeth against the ivory column and then licked his way to her collar bone nipping sharply as he made her forget she had a brain in her head. He latched onto her nipple and roughly sucked it between his teeth successfully sending her into an almost painfully intense orgasm, but he did not stop there. Aaron continued to make love to her until she was too tired to clutch at his hands and her legs trembled so badly from release that she could not hold tight to his rocking hips. Only then did he come deep inside her making them both gasp at the intensity.

Boneless, they lay in the tangled sheets, bare skin to bare skin. Marta was drowsing back toward sleep when he pulled away kissing her lightly as he murmured, "I told Pacifico that I would go to the farm with him and help with the roof of the barn."

"So, that is why the wonderfully sexy wake-up," Marta laughed, softly.

Opening her eyes she saw the worry in his eyes. Sighing, she raised her lethargic body up on trembling arms. "Now who is thinking too much?"

"It is twelve miles away," he frowned.

"We have our phones," she pushed her fingers into his sweat soaked hair and smiled reassuringly. We have been here for nearly four weeks and we haven't seen anyone besides Tala and Pacifico. I will stay here and work on those files you wanted me to compile. I won't even leave the room it will be fine."

Aaron considered her for a long moment before he nodded and reluctantly left the bed to shower and dress for the day.

Marta's day consisted of remembering and documenting every detail of her time working for Sterlsyn Morlanta and Dr. Hillcott. Now that she put her mind to the task, set by Aaron, she was amazed at her incredibly naïve existence over the last six years. It was as if she had only been living half a life and even within the lab she had been insular. The threads of memory, half-remembered, that seemed to unravel into a more intricate pattern when pulled leading her thoughts toward other projects that could be built off of Outcome. A certain program that she was sure had been started because of Outcome's success raised its ugly heads when she thought of the miniSD card Aaron found in the knife she had taken from the dead asset in Manila.

After all, she thought, they had been successful enough in playing God and creating soldiers of supreme skill with only a slight altering of the Outcome participants both cognitively and physically. It must have been a bitch when the soldiers remained men and did not reacted callously enough to the situations they were asked to take part in. The still experienced hope, love, fear and pain. Empathy would come easy to men of upstanding character and might get in the way of doing the messy tasks that the program administrators wanted done. The decision to eradicate those very human traits would be a simple leap for men in boardrooms to make after all they would be separated by thousands of miles and viewing the world through computer rendered video feeds.

It was nearing lunch time when Marta was disturbed by a commotion down the hill. She froze in fear for a moment, but then Aaron's training kicked in and she shut the computer without turning it off and shoved it into her pack. Slipping her feet into her shoes sans socks brought home to her that Aaron disliked her penchant for walking around without shoes for this very reason. It took her less than three minutes to exit the bungalow and when she did her heart stopped. Pacifico was hurrying toward her wearing a bloodied shirt and gesturing wildly for her to come.

Ignoring Aaron's first rule for her survival, if something spooks you fly and I will find you, she ran to the elderly man and allowed him to take her to Aaron. He took her to the dining room adjacent to the motel office where Aaron lay unmoving on the long table.


	5. Chapter 4

The Art of Being Lost 4

Watching Pacifico fend off his warrior of a wife put a smile on Aaron's face. They were such an odd little couple, bickering one moment and coddling the next. It was heartening to see such devotion in others. All his life he had been surrounded by institutions rather than family and friends. Growing up it was easily apparent that he was not like the other children and being different in a State Home was like an invitation to be bullied and mocked. Even in the Army he had not been well treated by those around him. It was only after he joined the program and his chems kicked in that people around him started to value him as an asset if not as a human being.

These last few weeks with Tala and Pacifico had given Aaron an odd sense of familial bonding. Tala doted on Aaron as if he were a favored son instead of a stranger renting a bungalow in the middle of an island only regarded for its agriculture and soft, white sandy beaches. Pacifico huffed and took off for the rusted out old truck he used to travel back and forth between the motel and the farm he and Tala also owned.

Aaron turned to Tala and found his heart in his throat when he noticed the same fearful look in her eyes as had been in Marta's as he left her moments ago. Taking a step toward the elderly woman Aaron put a comforting hand on her arm and assured her with his best smile, "I'll watch after him."

Tala visibly relaxed and the stern look fear had put on her face slipped away. She patted his hand the Aaron assumed a mother or grandmother might have done and then nudged him out toward the truck. "Paci needs to eat his lunch at noon," she admonished, "I packed enough for a small army make sure you both eat, Anak." The affectionate way she called him son startled a laugh from Aaron, but he moved toward the truck with a jaunty wave.

Pacifico was stonily quiet as he drove and Aaron used the time to plan out his and Marta's next steps. They had been exceedingly lucky so far but they could not hope to stay tucked away on Palawan forever and public transit was such a risky mode of transport. Aaron frowned out at the horizon where the sun was just cresting the hilltops and thought about Bangkok; the asset in Manila did not come right out in the files and declare that his home base, but the pictures had been a road map. The man was a sociopath. The gruesome photos and intensely graphic files he kept on that miniSD painted a picture so vivid it made Aaron sick to think that he had so narrowly missed inception in a program designed to dehumanize him to that degree.

Pacifico turned into the deeply rutted side road that led up to the farm in the hills. Pulling up to the smallish barn a pack of dogs came bounding around the barn to jump, tails wagging around Pacifico as he stepped out of the truck. Seeing them Aaron remembered his talk with the other asset in Alaska about the wolves. His senses were enhanced and his body was honed by virus developed by the same people that eventually created that other—man—was the dead asset still a man or had the manipulations taken that from him?

Getting out of the truck Aaron watched the dogs for their reaction and was slightly disconcerted when they began displaying submissive behavior in subtle ways. He made a note then and there to question the Doc more thoroughly about every genetic consequence to his virile enhancements. Aaron did not want to end up with a pack of farm dogs nipping at his heels all day so he decided to establish his place in the hierarchy as quickly and efficiently as he could without having to resort to violence. It was easy to determine which of the dogs the alpha was and Aaron immediately got to his knees in front of him. Staring unwaveringly into its eyes and waiting for the dog to accept him. It was a tense few minutes as the dog growled low in its throat and bared its teeth, but once it realized Aaron had no intension of submitting to it the dog backed down and ceded to him.

Smiling Aaron gave the leader of the ragtag pack a few affectionate pats and stood to his feet. Pacifico was watching the interaction with keen eyes, but he did not question Aaron's odd behavior. Aaron glanced around the farm and saw that it was little more than a few patched together fields nestled into hills covered in fruit trees that verged into the surrounding rainforest. Looking back at Pacifico Aaron waited for the man to speak, not sure what was causing the elderly man's sullen attitude.

"You think I can't fix my own roof," the old man final accused. Aaron finally understood the unusually silent ride up the mountain. Pacifico felt as if his masculinity was in question. "I cleared this land when my father gave it to me; it was nothing more than dense forest and rocky soil. It took me four years to make it perfect for my Tala and I built that hut for her with my own hands."

Aaron followed the man's gesture and saw the small but still sturdy looking house the man had built for the woman he loved. It struck him then that these people, Tala and Pacifico Calag, had a history that was firmly etched in the world around them. It was a part of them that could not be erased or changed. Aaron realized that was exactly what he had been searching for when he joined the Army. Looking back at Pacifico he made sure that his gaze was unwavering when he spoke, "I offered to help because you and your wife have given the Doc and me a place here that we desperately needed. I meant no disrespect."

Pacifico studied Aaron for long minutes measuring his words before he nodded and saying, benevolently, "Then I will allow you to do all the heavy lifting.

Aaron laughed, glancing away toward the small house. It was a house that had been lived in and loved in; it was an image of what he wanted to give back to the Doc. Even her scientific brain could not over shadow her desire for the happily ever after dream that the monstrosity of a house in Maryland evidenced.

Clapping his hands together and rubbing them in anticipation of strenuous labor Aaron asked, "Where do we start?"

The sun was approaching its zenith, there was maybe two hours until noon, and they were nearly finished with the roof of the small barn when a high pitched scream pierced the early afternoon air. Pacifico, who decided it was best for Aaron to do all the climbing and heavy lifting had remained on the ground and 'instructed' Aaron on how best to mend the roof. So, when the lone girl stumbled through the papaya trees with six men following close behind, Pacifico was in the thick of things in moments. The girl, whose shirt had been ripped open, saw Pacifico she made a bee-line straight to the old man seeking protection.

Aaron watched for another moment hoping the men would leave now that the girl was in the presence of others; Aaron did not want this to destroy the calm he and the Doc had managed to find here. They must not have felt that Pacifico was much of a threat to them because the men began trying to herd the girl and old man into an indefensible position in which the barn at their backs left them with no way to escape.

Unlucky for them, they did not know the pair was not alone. Assessing the situation and mentally planning each step he would have to take in order to defend the victim and render incapacitated the attackers. Three of the men carried machetes, one a club and another had a small hunting knife. It was the one standing negligently behind the other men with a KG-9, definitely not American made, that Aaron would need to worry about first. Internally, Aaron assigned each attacker with a name. The leader was KG-9 and after him machetes one, two and three were the biggest threat. Club-man and the knife were his least problems.

Silently gripping the hammer he was using to fix the roof and long piece of bamboo Aaron slid to the far side of the barn and made his way behind the men by skirting through the fruit trees. He was hoping that KG-9 would not know what hit him, but the girl in her hysterical state saw Aaron coming and began pleading for him to help them. Pacifico tried to quiet her but she was frightened and could not be silenced by the old man.

The result was that KG-9 was able to turn and get off one lucky shot before Aaron threw the bamboo at the man's head distracting him and shoved the barrel upward with his bare hand. Using the claw of the hammer Aaron attacked KG-9 and quickly took the man down before the other men realized their leader was in serious trouble.

A machete flashed in his periphery and Aaron danced out of the way just in time to grab the arm wielding it, machete-three's, and break it with a vicious twist. The man went to his knees in excruciating pain and Aaron used his own knee to knock the man unconscious and break his nose. Machetes one and two where next; Aaron used them against each other and in the end Machete-one died at the hand of Machete-two. Machete-two died with his own weapon lodged in his chest as Aaron moved on to incapacitate the man with the knife.

Club-man threw his weapon at Aaron, who ducked, and made a dive for KG-9's discarded semi-automatic. It was too bad for Club-man that he was slow in turning the rifle on Aaron because it cost him his life. Aaron drove his knee into the man's back and snapped his neck in the next second. The whole exchange took less than two minutes but the damage was done.

Turning to look at Pacifico it was clear the man knew Aaron was more than he claimed to be and that meant that he and the Doc would have to leave. Taking a step toward the barn Aaron winced as his side bloomed in intense pain. Surprised he looked down and found his grey tee shirt soaked with blood; he had been shot. Doc had mentioned that the virile Blue might have that effect, but he had not put it to the test since the fever broke. He had not felt a thing while he was fighting which was slightly disconcerting, but useful. Pressing his hand to the wound Aaron tried to stem the flow of blood. The wound burned like hell on fire, but he did not think anything major was hit. It hurt a little to inhale deeply which meant he probably had a cracked rib, maybe two, as a result of the bullet glancing off the bone as it entered.

Aaron was lucky the KG-9 was a cheaply made black market counterfeit and the man made his own load. It lacked enough powder to do the job thoroughly, or he would be dead right now. He would be dead and the Doc would have been left all alone to fend for herself. She could do it, she was a warrior, but that was not the life he wanted for her

Glancing at the old man and young woman Aaron headed for the truck and climbing into the back. Pacifico followed with the girl and soon they were on the way back to the motel. Flat on his back in the bed of the truck put the future in perspective for Aaron. It was clear that if the Doc had any hope of returning to her former life, or even living a life that did not include genetically enhanced assassins hunting her like an animal, he would have to do some burning of his own.

It was painful to think of not being in the Doc's life, but today proved he was what they made him. Most of what happened was so second nature that Aaron wondered exactly how close to the edge he really was. From what he knew of the asset in Manila from his morbid records it seemed he had always been a whack-job that lacked empathy and unless Aaron was mistaken that was probably why Byer chose the man for the new program, whatever it might be called. Byer was the key; Aaron doubted that Ric Byer was included in the burn-order used to wipe the Outcome program. In fact, he was pretty sure Byer was the one calling the shots.

Aaron made a silent vow as he lay bleeding and staring up into the tropical Palawan sun; he would bring Ric Byer and his organization down even if it meant he died trying. It was a vow made in blood and vow he would stamp with his life if needs be; Marta Shearing would have her life back. Resolute in his decision Aaron closed his eyes.

When he opened them again Marta was standing over him trying to blink away tears as she sewed up the wound in his side. From the smell of antiseptic she had already cleaned the wound and was just closing up. Tala was on his left side holding his hand and a light for the Doc so she could see to suture his wound. Aaron squeezed the elderly woman's hand and turned his gaze on Marta.

"Hey, Doc," he murmured, smiling reassuringly when her tear filled eyes met his. Aaron reached up and caressed her cheek, brushing her tears away, "Don't cry."

"I can't help it," she whispered as she went back to her task of sewing up Aaron. "I always cry when I am angry."

"Only angry," he asked, letting his hand fall back to the table beneath him.

"And afraid," she huffed, "What if you died? What am I supposed to do without—," she shook her head when she finished the last stitch and clipped the thread.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"What are you sorry for," Marta asked, turning fierce eyes on him and he could clearly see the warrior woman shining through.

"For getting shot," he explained with a frown. "You don't have to worry, Doc, I won't leave you without any way to take care of yourself."

Her eyes were blazing by the time he finished speaking and her voice when she finally spoke was almost shrill with emotion, "You think I am worried about myself," she demanded before turning on her heel and leaving the room with only the echo of the slamming door reverberating in her wake.

"For such a smart boy, Anak, you say the stupidest things." Tala sighed heavily and patted his cheek. "She cares for you…She will give you the chance to make it right later."

"How," he asked confused as his mind circled the idea that Marta cared for him.

"By apologizing for that apology," she sighed again heavily rolling her eyes, "Of course."

"Of course," he repeated as the elderly woman left the room leaving him alone with the realization that Marta might actually care for him.


	6. Chapter 5

The Art of Being Lost 5

Aaron squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fists painfully into the sockets trying to decide what he could have done differently. Dropping his hands to his chest he thought of waking Marta that morning; she had looked so beautiful, so sexy. Aaron would have wished he had decided to stay in bed paying homage to Marta's breasts. If not for the fact that he was all that stood between life and death for Pacifico and the girl; where the hell was the girl? Jerking to a sitting position Aaron ignored the ache of his ribs and the pull of the new stitches.

Standing and finding no shirt Aaron quickly fastened his jeans, which Marta must have loosened to give her better access to the wound, and pulled the door open to find Pacifico alone in the hall. The elderly man sat in a straight back chair with a well-used rifle across his lap. Aaron's eyes skimmed over the way the old man held the weapon and then met the age weary eyes.

"You know that won't stop me," he spoke slowly, subtly sliding his feet into position if he had to make a move. Inwardly though Aaron had to wonder if he would even try to defend himself against the elderly man. The answer was yes; so simple really an easy choice. He liked Pacifico and Tala a great deal and if it were just him he would probably allow the old man to turn him in. But it was not just him anymore and Aaron would not allow anyone to harm Marta.

"Yes," the old man nodded, but did not remove his eyes from Aaron's.

"Then why," Aaron asked gruffly.

"We need to talk, you and I." Pacifico gestured to the gun in his lap as he continued to speak in the same calm and yet gruff way Aaron was. "It isn't even loaded."

"Then why," Aaron growled. It angered him that Pacifico would face off with someone he had seen kill six men not more than an hour earlier.

"Because you, Akan, are a man of action and I knew you would be up and about ready for action, but didn't think you would stop for a quiet chat with an old man."

"That is bullshit!"

"You plan to leave," Pacifico ignored the outburst. "You and I both know you would have brushed me off and you and Dr. Shearing would have been gone before I could have offered you a second alternative."

Aaron froze at the casual way Pacifico dropped Marta's real name into the conversation and that part of his brain that lays dormant except in times of crisis switched on and he was calculating exactly how much strength it would take to snap the old man's neck. The old man, in question, smiled as if he could tell what Aaron was thinking.

"Don't worry," Pacifico tutted, reaching slowly into his pocket and pulling out a folded sheet of paper, "This arrived two weeks before the two of you arrived here."

Aaron slowly, relaxed his tensed muscles and carefully took the crinkled paper from the old man. Unfolding it Aaron was not surprised to see digitized photos of him and the Doc staring back at him. Licking his lips Aaron folded the paper precisely, hiding the grainy pictures, before handing it back to Pacifico. This was serious; Aaron could not believe he had fucked up so royally, letting his eyes study the room methodically he picked out weapons that could be utilized in a pinch. The elderly couple had become a liability to the Doc and that could not be allowed, but before he terminated the threat he needed to know exactly how fucked they were.

"Who knows we are here," he asked quietly, his grey eyes a steel shaft as they pinned Pacifico to the chair in which he sat.

"If I tell you they will become targets," the old man's voice was soft and gently condemning as he watched the usually affable young man flip a switch and become the dangerous man the wire proclaimed him to be. "I told you this not as a threat," the old man sighed when Aaron did not deny that he would take steps to ensure their continued safety.

"Who," Aaron asked again even more quietly than before, "Knows?"

"Tala," Pacifico murmured, "She is the one who made the connection that first night, but she said to me that you were a good man and it seemed to her that all the two of you wanted was to be left alone."

"She was right," Aaron acknowledged as his heart clenched. These people had been nothing but kind to them, but he had to protect the Doc. "Who else knows?"

"The girl you saved today," Pacifico sighed and glanced down the hall to a door leading toward the office. "She is my great-grand daughter. My grandson figured it out when Mercy told him what happened at the farm." Marta was standing in the door her eyes wide with trepidation as she watched Aaron with the elderly man. She had been there a while, but Aaron did not have time to think about that right now.

"And who did he call," Aaron persisted.

"No one," Pacifico told him firmly. "He is taking care of the removal of the bodies at the farm. He will insure that this does not sit on our doorstep; that is does not lead to you and the doctor. You saved his only child, his daughter; from a brutal attack he will protect you."

"I could have done that," Aaron narrowed his eyes as he spoke; "If I don't want something known I can do that for myself. Why is his help so special?"

"He is the head of the police department in this region of Palawan," the words uttered so resignedly by Pacifico made Aaron's hands twitch.

"Aaron," Marta's voice, so quiet, penetrated the haze of battle that had begun to creep through his veins and color his vision.

"Go get in the car, Doc." His voice was a gentle command and he knew that after this she would see him for what he truly was, but he had promised to take care of her.

"No," she whispered, and his acute hearing registered so many things in that moment. The sound of drops, her tears, hitting the hardwood floor and the frightened and yet resolute breathing of the quirky elderly man Aaron had actually grown to care about. "We can trust them," she denied, stepping into the room and gently closing the door. "They have kept our secret, Aaron."

"I only trust you," he admitted, "We don't have the best track record, Doc; the last people I trusted are trying to kill us. So, tell me, how long can we trust them, Doc?"

"I don't know," she shook her head, "But I do know that you don't want this. We can't hide forever."

Of course he did not want this! He thought Marta must know how much this time here had begun to mean to him. She knew him and that alone was reason enough to do what he despised to keep her safe. She had asked to be lost and he had given that to her, but they were not slot anymore. Too many people knew who they were now for them to be truly lost.

"Even lost people find help along the way," she murmured, startling him. He had not even realized he was speaking, but Marta countered his logic with a calm voice and a cool hand on his cheek turning his face to hers. He could see the tears on her pale cheeks and his mind flashed to that morning when they had been flushed with desire and release. Had it only been half a day? Impossible!

"I know you will protect me," she smiled reassuringly. "I won't buy my life with innocent blood. It would make us no better than those hunting us." Aaron began to tremble as her words hit their mark. "Aaron, we can't go on like this."

She broke him; it was evident in the way he stepped hastily away from her and the old man dragging in quick labored breaths. Marta would not allow him to retreat from her though and instead followed him wrapping her arms around him and holding him as she murmured nonsense into his ear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hugging her tight. "I'm sorry."

"Shh—," she hushed him. "I know it is okay."

"It really isn't," he laughed, a bit as the reality of where he had gone hit him.

"Do you not think that I would not kill for my Tala?" Pacifico's voice was quiet as he offered Aaron the benediction of forgiveness. "If we are not willing to kill to protect the ones we love what good is the emotion. Heat, passion these are fleeting, but love it is what will carry us through our life to the grave."

"Love," Aaron murmured as he let his head drop back against the wall and his eyes fall closed. Could that really be what he was searching for all his life? Acceptance, sure he had craved that, but there was a hollow feel to the acceptance he achieved in the Outcome program. Aaron slid down the wall to the floor as if a sniper's bullet dropped him there.

"Love," the Doc murmured as she knelt between his knees and pressed her forehead to his.


	7. Chapter 6

The Art of Being Lost 6

Marta fidgeted with the long skirt she wore trying to get used to the feel of the ankle strap holding a small twenty-two in place. Aaron took it upon himself to improve Marta's gun handling skills over the last couple weeks. When she argued that she already knew how to shoot Aaron had laughed, "No, Doc, you know how to load and fire in a general direction; I am going to teach you to load, clean and aim at your target. It was pure luck you didn't blow my brains out back in Maryland."

Glancing out the window of the small hut she could see Aaron busy feeding the dogs; Cujo was ardently following Aaron's every move much to his chagrin. It made her want to laugh the worshipful puppy love the dog seemed to extend to them both since they made their new residence at the farm six weeks ago. She was glad Aaron decided to make a go of it here on Palawan; it was peaceful.

Aaron laughed as Willy, a funny little mixed breed that looked like some sort of genetic experiment, leapt up and grabbed the stick before Aaron could let it fly. Aaron had confided when they first moved out to the farm, that he never had a pet before. When she asked why he hadn't asked his parents for one Aaron just shrugged nonchalantly and said, "I never knew my parents, Doc; I grew up in a state home."

Taking a deep breath, Marta gathered her case and stepped out onto the wooden porch of Rose and Charlie's first real home. It was small and consisted mostly of a bedroom, bathroom and living area. Marta had never been happier anywhere; not even in that architecturally beautiful wreck of a house in Maryland.

Aaron shook Willy of and threw the stick deep into the dense foliage. He watched, amused, as the pack rambled, pell-mell after it. Laughing, she shook her head as they all fought, playfully, to be the one to retrieve the toy for the man.

"You ready, Doc?" His voice still had that intimate burr that always came in the morning after a good night's sleep and delicious wake-up sex.

"Yeah," she nodded, smiling as she headed for the passenger side of the old truck. Aaron met her there and opened the door for her as he had always done, but today he helped her into the truck and closed the door for her as well. Three days after the 'incident' Aaron returned the rental car and bought a second hand truck as part of their altered cover.

Oddly, it was Edgar, Pacifico's grandson, who helped them flesh out an airtight cover story. True to Pacifico's word Edgar moved the bodies of the six men and they were found on a boat set adrift off the coast the next day. So far no trouble had come of the missing men, but Aaron stayed alert.

He meant what he said, he trusted Marta one hundred percent, but the others he still had doubts about. It was hard working as a team when the Program had emphasized solitary missions. Autonomous thinking was acceptable only so far as mission completion required it, but thinking on your own outside the mission was on the ban list right under 'Don't fall in love'.

It was Edgar's idea that Marta and Aaron should move out of the Pacifico Estates and onto the farm it would be too easy for Tala and Pacifico to get caught in the cross fire if they were discovered. The move was the only thing Aaron and Edgar agreed upon immediately. Everything else seemed to be up for debate. The most memorable had been in regard to Aaron's role in the cover story which Edgar proposed.

The men Aaron killed had been a part of one of the local gangs selling black market weapons, specializing in counterfeit American military weapons. Edgar wanted Aaron's skills and after a grueling eight hour argument the policeman finally convinced Aaron that he should help his office with a few of the investigations. It was nothing much just hours patiently studying the suspected gun shops and reconnoitering for raids. Charlie Gordon was an independent security contractor that started his business after recovering from wounds received during combat in the Sandbox. Edgar was the only person to deal with Aaron. It was risky but it was work Aaron knew.

Not only that, but with Edgar's help he had gotten the chance to go to Bangkok and search the dead assets' burrow. The place every asset creates to give them a moment away from the eyes of the program. What he found there made her so sick that Marta had immediately lost her supper. It wasn't only the information pertaining to the experimentation on the man they now knew as LARX-3 but also the sociopathic serial killings the asset indulged in when he escaped his creator's careful watch for a few moments. Aaron had carefully packed every scrap of paper from the man's lair and shipped it to a warehouse he used sometimes in Washington State. The information in those boxes would be needed if they ever wanted to return to America without a price on their heads.

So, Aaron crawled around the jungle looking for illegal gun manufacturers and Marta spent her time twiddling her fingers until Tala suggested that they also present themselves to the local Baptist hospital, a small mission hospital that was large for the area at only twelve beds, as volunteers. Today was 'Rose's' first day volunteering on staff, but Aaron had taken a break from skulking to help with the renovations being done on the building for the last week.

Last night, Edgar informed them that the background check he ran for the hospital administrators came back clean. The back-stop that Aaron created for her held up and Charlie and Rose Gordon were in the clear. At last she would be working and not counting the minutes until Aaron got home each day. It was only a supporting position in the triage area of the tiny hospital, but it was better than nothing. Aaron would be at the hospital today to help with the building maintenance and Marta was sure that he just wanted to be sure her first day was smooth and she was safe.

All in all it was a long day but well worth the time and energy. Marta was cleaning up the small curtained exam room she used that day in preparation for going home when Aaron made an appearance. She knew he had not been far away, his presence was electric to her, but she had not actually set eyes on him since lunch time when she was hurrying from one exam room to the next. Pulling back a curtain she frowned at the less than detailed file in her hand as she murmured, "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's okay Doc," Aaron's amused voice answered. "I was bringing you some lunch and felt a little nostalgic." Looking up, startled, Marta found Aaron sitting on the exam table with a wide grin on his face holding a bag that smelled suspiciously like Tala's spicy noodles. He glanced around the tiny room with that same knowing smile he had always used on her in the lab. "Want to play doctor," he asked waggling his eyebrows comically.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching them Marta closed the curtain and moved to the room. "It's been a while," she whispered, naughtily. "I'm going to need a full-spec work up."

"Ummuh," he murmured sympathetically seconds before her mouth found his. It was the most enjoyable medical examination either had ever had.


	8. The End

The Art of Being Lost 7

Marta smiled as her eyes adjusted to the dim fire lit room. It was their anniversary, of a sort, today marked their third month as a couple. It seemed like such a short time, but so much had already happened. The small island was their refuge, but it was beginning to feel like a prison to Marta, who missed her family.

Aaron knew she was beginning to feel stir-crazy, it was hard to keep anything from the man; it was infuriating sometimes. He had begun to step-up her training as soon as the signs began to show. He told her that men would naturally see her as inferior, less capable in a fight, but assets would not care; she would be fair game. Especially, with the new assets from the LARX Program and everything they had managed to learn from the dead asset.

Pulling herself from the grim mood that thinking about the unethical use of science, far beyond any gray area she might have trod upon, put her in Marta let her eyes take in the room. A cheerful fire roared and snapped in the grate and cast an amber glow on the mosquito-netting shrouding the bed and the man pretending to sleep amongst the rumpled cotton sheets.

The remnants of their dinner had been cleared away except the thick slice of chocolate cake one of the missionaries at the hospital baked for 'Charlie's' birthday. Marta smiled as she looked between the sweet treat and the sexy man; which to have she debated as if it wasn't a given. Slowly, Marta disrobed dropping her clothes were she stood smiling softly. Taking a step toward the bed Marta paused, glanced back at the cake and swiped a finger through the thick chocolate frosting.

She slipped beneath the gossamer material letting her eyes trace over the bunched muscles defining Aaron's broad shoulders and followed the line of his spine until it disappeared under the thin cotton sheet.

''For a second I thought you might pick the cake,'' his voice was warm and amused as he lazily turned onto his back.

The fire in his gray eyes scorched her with delicious heat as they chased the flush in her cheeks along her throat and over her breasts to linger on the aroused pucker of her nipples. Aaron licked his lips and it sent a shiver of need through her body.

''I really didn't have a taste for it at the moment,'' she bit her lip and let her own eyes take a similar journey down his lean frame to where the sheet dipped low, barely covering his hips.

Aaron chuckled, "Is this for me then," he asked as he lifted her chocolate coated finger to his mouth and licking the dark confection from the digit. Marta whimpered when he continued to swirl his tongue over and around her finger even after the chocolate was gone.

Pulling her finger free she cupped his head and bent to claim his mouth with a searing kiss that tasted of sex and chocolate. Aaron's large hands bracketed her throat and he leaned back drawing her onto the bed with a growl, "Come 'ere."

"Did you miss me," she asked softly, slipping astride his sheet covered hips Marta smiled into his changeable gray eyes and bit at his lower lip playfully before deepening the kiss.

"God, yes…How did it go," he asked as he tangled his hands in her hair and angled her head to the side so that he could scrape his teeth along her sensitive throat and then bury his nose in the fragrant spot just under her ear that makes her shiver.

"Kanta is fine and the baby is beautiful," Marta murmured managing to only sound slightly wistful. She never really thought about the simple things; the things people take for granted everyday as they went on with their normal lives. It was not until she started interacting with her patients like a real doctor ought that she realized she had missed out on anything special. Aaron had given her a second chance to help people, but those faceless nameless men hunting them had stolen something precious from them, both. "They named her Song."

"That's a beautiful name," he murmurs and she can tell that he has noticed her reflective mood and the odd watery quality to her voice. She cannot hide anything from him and that is infuriating sometimes, but tonight she needs him to ask. Her heart is curiously light and heavy at once. She is glad Kanta and her new baby girl is safe, but Marta can almost hear the clanging of her maternal clock sounding the alarm. "You okay, Doc?" Aaron's voice was quiet and his hands are gentle as he lays back settling more comfortably into the pillows and taking her with him.

"I'm fine," she hesitates for a moment unsure if he will understand what she is about to say. "I'll never have that."

"Doc," he sighs. She can almost see him trying to find a way to encourage her without out-right lying to her face, but instead he just frames her face with his hands deep in her hair watching the emotions flit across her face. The sadness and intensity of his amber-lit eyes makes her ashamed to be practically begging him to tell her what she wants to hear and truth-be-damned. Marta knows he will never lie to her; he has already told her his most shameful and dark secrets. She sees him for the man he truly is and he forgives her for being his kryptonite.

Covering his hands with hers Marta brings his palms to her lips and kisses them as she whispers, "Make love to me, Aaron. Just make love to me."

Aaron nods and rolls her beneath him on the lumpy mattress that has become theirs and they are flesh to flesh with only a slight effort. The sheet between them is quickly shoved aside as Aaron settles between her thighs. He enters her slowly, reverently as they stare into each other's' eyes. His face is so expressive, love mingled with sadness of his own, and Marta feels a tear leak from the corner of her eye. Aaron sees it and his eyes are tracing its path, before he leans in and sips it from her skin whispering secrets Marta never dreamed he concealed.

"I wanted you from day one," he breathes into her ear, "I thought about you all the time. It wasn't an accident that I had that wallet in my stash. I put it there when I went off-the-grid just before all hell broke loose. I knew if things ever got so bad that I was using that cache you would need someone to protect you, too."

Marta's breathe stalls in her throat and her heart tightens, "What are you saying?" Her voice cracks a bit as she tries to comprehend exactly what he is trying to tell her.

"I loved you the first time I saw you," Aaron murmurs and her heart swells; he has never come out and said the words before. He shifts his hips a little for emphasis, "I thought you were an angel," rocking gently to and fro, making them both catch their breath. "I had been through hell," his voice tightens and he thrusts deep and hard for a couple strokes that make her shake. Aaron's hands skim up her sides and under her back to curl over her shoulders, anchoring her in place as his tempo increases. "They were offering me salvation in the form of a blue pill, but it was you," he drinks her tears with little laps of his tongue as he confides, "there that morning when I realized the pills were actually working." Aaron pulls back so he can look her in the eyes as he says, "You came in to draw a sample and I swear I thought you were an angel."

Marta shakes her head and frames his face with her hands as she denies angelic state, "I'm not an angel."

"Yes," he murmurs through tight lips and his eyes are fierce as he stills completely, "You took away my shame, Marta, made me better than I was. You were like a benediction," he thrusts again making her gasp, "And a curse…To me you are everything and I will stop at nothing to make you happy."

"I am happy," she mutters, kissing him hard as he begins to thrust more consistently.

"Not yet," he denies, and the smile in his eyes is a curious mix of boyish innocence and hardened man. "But soon," he whispers cryptically.

"Aaron," she murmurs as worry creeps into her heart. Marta thinks she knows what he is trying to say and the thought is exhilarating and frightening, "I love you." Her words have an unintended, but not unwelcome effect as he rears up on his knees bringing her with him. Marta flails for a moment before she clamps her thighs and arms around him to keep from losing her balance. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," he assures her and then he is making love to her in desperate earnestness and there is no time for talk as he latches onto her nipple with his wickedly talented mouth. Marta wraps her arms around his head trapping him at her breast as she rolls her hips with each thrust of him deep inside her.

Aaron lunges sloppily between two thrusts and Marta is surprised to find her back pressed hard into the rough head board of the bed as he scrapes his teeth over her sensitive nipples. He is diligently working first one and then the other as his hard cock strikes that cord within her that he knows will make her legs shake and her cries ring out in the tiny room.

Aaron lifts his head and his eyes are dark in the fire-lit shadows of the bed, fierce and determined as he silently promises her the world. It is moments like this that Marta can finally stop thinking and just be and now that she knows Aaron has a plan to take their lives back it is all the sweeter. When she comes, shattering around him, an animal like growl curls Aaron's lips as he looses his desire another notch. Marta has to fight to keep her eyes on his expressive face as he gasps his beautiful lips falling open as he comes deep inside her.

The room is filled with the gun-shot blasts of their combined breathes and Marta thinks she has never had so much faith in one man as she had in science; until Aaron burst into her kitchen and saved her. The world would always be variables, but Aaron, he was her constant. Marta smiled softly into his sweat slicked face as she bent and sipped at his lips.

It was soothing, thought that Aaron was her science.

This Ends

The Art of Being Lost

Continued in

Slaying the Hydra


End file.
